Page 50 of Seven Days in June

“Louisiana.”

“Your dad’s from Louisiana?”

“My dad’s unknown.”

“So’s mine.”

“Ever wonder who yours is?”

“Nah, I’m good. The concept of ‘father’ just feels made up, like Santa or the Easter Bunny.” Shane tapped the bottle against his leg. “Never believed in those niggas, either.”

“When I was little,” said Genevieve, “I wished he was Mufasa.”

Shane paused. “I’m gonna say something controversial.”

“Don’t tell me you haven’t seenThe Lion King.”

“It’s just…victors write history, right? What if Mufasa was the bad guy? And we don’t know, ’cause he’s the star of the story? ‘Circle of Life’ feels like propaganda to put working-class animals in their place. Like, shut the fuck up, you’re meant to be eaten. Maybe I’m buggin’.”

“You’re not buggin’; you’re apsychopath,” she said, but he could hear a smile in her voice. “My turn. Do you know your mom?”

“Nah. Orphan. You got a mom?”

Her silence felt heavy. “Sometimes.”

“Better than nothing, right?”

“Debatable,” she sighed. “My turn. Any hidden talents?”

Shane tapped his bottom lip, wondering if he was going to admit this to her.

“I can sing,” he confessed haltingly. “Really sing. On some smooth R&B shit. Like, no matter the song—it could be ‘Happy Birthday’—my voice comes out sounding like Ginuwine. It’s fucking embarrassing.”

Genevieve wailed with laughter. “Sing something! A big song, like ‘End of the Road.’ The ‘Thong Song.’ ‘Beautiful’ by Aguilera.”

He half grinned. “You want me to humiliate myself for you?”

“No, I want you towantto humiliate yourself for me.”

They laughed, and soon they were quiet. Shane taking measured sips and Genevieve silent.

Shane was seeing double. He closed one eye, and his vision rebalanced.

“Hey,” he started. “Why do you do it?”

“Don’t know. I go into a daze.” She sounded far away again. “There’s a relief after.”

“Does it hurt?”

“That’s the point.”

“Same with my arm,” he admitted. “Hurts, but I need it. Like it’s the glue holding me together.”

She said something inaudible. And then “Gonna sit now.”

Shane felt her weight slide down the door. He sat down, too. He didn’t know how long they were like that. Time was elastic. After a while, Shane passed out. He must’ve slept hard, because when Genevieve finally opened the door, he fell flat on his back with a dull thunk.

“Let’s go to the pool!” She sounded strong, cheerful.

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